


When You Kiss Me, I am Happy Enough

by AvrielleRogue



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Mage Rights, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvrielleRogue/pseuds/AvrielleRogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kalya Tabris visits the Kirkwall Alienage after the events of Origins, and after an unfortunate situation involving Merrill’s blood magic, she requires the assistance of a powerful healer. The handsome Anders reminds her of someone from her past. Why is it always the sandy-blonde humans that still her heart? One shot with very minor spoilers for my ongoing “A Warden’s Celebration.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Kiss Me, I am Happy Enough

The smell of Dwarven Ale always made Kalya feel at home. As Zevran had liked to remind her, Alienages were the same everywhere, and Kirkwall was no exception. She signaled to the bartender for another whiskey as a Dalish elf walked into the Lowtown tavern. Many city elves got facial tattoos as a tribute to their heritage, but this woman’s meek demeanor so contrasted the rowdy city-elf lifers just getting off servant work, no questions were left in Kalya’s mind.

She waited until the drink was served to make her way over to her.

“I’ve seen you around the Hanged Man, haven’t I? With a woman named Hawke and her crew?”

“Yes, that would be me, I suppose. Never been part of a crew before.” The accent solidified her suspicions.

“Crews are overrated. I assure you.” Kalya signaled to the bartender to add the woman’s drinks to her tab as she extended a hand. “I’m Kalya. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Merrill. Is that a Ferelden accent?”

“And here I thought people came to the Free Marches to blend in.”

“Oh, I won’t tell anyone.” Merrill suddenly looked flustered and winked conspicuously. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Kalya laughed and finished off her drink. “It’s no secret. I seem to travel a lot. Visiting Alienages is a hobby of mine.”

“You must have a very sad life if that’s your hobby.” Merrill gasped suddenly. “Oh, I don’t mean –“

“No, you’re definitely right,” Kalya said. “Although I do prefer the drinks at the Hanged Man when I have the choice.”

“Me too.” Merrill gripped her glass. “But Hawke told me I needed to get out more with my own people.”

“Not a lot of options for social gatherings when you’re confined to one city block, eh? Still, I’ll bet the Dalish don’t fancy taverns as much as we do.”

“Oh, no. The Keeper would absolutely lose it if she knew I was drinking.”

There was a sad pause as Merrill sipped her drink slowly.

“We’d best not tell her about the Blooming Rose then,” Kalya said, motioning for another round.

“By the Dread Wolf, that would be a terrible idea!” said Merrill. Kalya unsuccessfully stifled a bemused grin. “Oh. That was probably what you meant, wasn’t it?”

There was no music playing, but the tiny tavern was boisterous with activity as the evening continued. The bartender kept the drinks coming as more and more patrons found seats at the tables around them. One particularly rowdy group of male elves began chanting an unrecognizable song out of tune as a flash of movement streaked across the ground in Kalya’s periphery.

“Did you see that?” Merrill squealed.

“Was that a rat?” Kalya said, sneering.

“They’re my friends! That was Koda. I didn’t know he came here!”

As Merrill craned her neck to find where Koda had gone, an elf from the rowdy table rose from his seat. Wobbling on his feet, he slid a bow from his back, notched an arrow, and fired it into the creature, hitting it by pure random chance. Merrill gasped.

The man huffed and turned to the bartender with a cocky grin, arms open wide.

“How about a round on the house for taking care of your vermin problem?”

Merrill’s eyes filled with tears.

“Kalya, you have to get him for me,” she said. “I can’t – There isn’t much time.”

“The elf?” Kalya asked, feeling for her blades.

“Koda!”

The drunken elf slumped back into his seat, and Kalya made her way across the tavern, snatching the dead rat inconspicuously and touching it with the least surface area on her hands as possible. Merrill ducked into a booth in a side room that must have been meant for small private affairs.

Kalya slid in the opposite bench and gently placed the creature on the table in front of her. Wincing, Merrill pulled the arrow from the rat’s body and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling a dagger from beneath her robes.

Kalya instinctively jerked back, but the elf held the dagger close, a burning intensity in her eyes. Then she ran the blade deep across the palm of her hand as she muttered a spell in words Kalya knew were not Dalish.

Drops of blood fell on the dead creature, and Merrill’s chanting intensified. Words and phrases repeated over and over, growing more urgent as Kalya looked on, afraid to move but ready if she had to. She hadn’t pegged this one for a blood mage, but she’d had plenty of experience dealing with Abominations, unfortunately.

Then Kalya was sure her eyes were playing tricks on her. The rat’s rib cage twitched and rose to full capacity before falling. Merrill locked eyes with her guiltily as she struggled to catch her breath.

It was then that the door of the tavern slammed open.

“Where is he?” a man shouted. “I could feel it from outside, pulsing and roiling. Tell me where the blood mage is!”

Kalya sheepishly peered around the corner to see an armored Templar grasping the barkeep by the collar. Human proportions looked so ridiculously large to her. The barkeep was too stunned to answer, but the Templar scanned the room for anyone not completely plastered and locked eyes with Kalya. She ducked back around and slid low in the booth, reaching for the blades in her boots.

“The magic drained me,” Merrill said breathlessly. “I can’t fight him.”

Kalya raised her daggers. “I can.”

Seconds later, the Templar rounded the corner. Kalya shoved her companion under the table and sprang to her feet, smirking at him.

“You know a place has gone to shit when the shemlen start showing up.”

The furious Templar swung his enormous shield towards her, and she ducked under its arc, searching his armor for a weak spot in a joint. Practically underneath him, she found a slot under the pit of his swinging arm and drove her blade up as hard as she could. He jerked back reflexively, but not nearly as wounded as she’d hoped.

She ducked under the table, hoping to slice through a trusty Achilles tendon, but armored boots protected any attack. With only had seconds before he discovered the mage also under the table, she rolled out and sprung off the wall, launching herself onto his back. A hard elbow to his right shoulder caused the Templar’s sword to clatter to the ground, but he slammed her backwards against a far wall, and she hit the floor hard on her tailbone. A shock radiated up her spine, freezing her momentarily.

The Templar spun around and smiled evilly at her. Kalya scrambled, trying to find purchase on the slippery floor and cursed herself for not slitting his throat when she had the chance.

A creak in the floor behind him gave away Merrill’s position, and the man allowed her a sideward glance, keeping Kalya in check on the ground.

“I’ll get to you in a moment, love,” he sneered at the mage.

Lifting his shield over his head, the Templar brought it down with furious force, driving its pointed bottom edge deep into Kalya’s thigh.

A blood-curdling scream erupted from her lips and he jerked it out again, re-angling for a killing blow into her chest. Kalya’s vision was getting cloudy, and her head rolled heavily to one side, but she could see Merrill’s shape rising behind the Templar.

“ _Melana sahlin_!”

Merrill’s arms shot out in front of her and a cone of ice shards erupted from the ground below him, freezing him where he stood. An invisible weight slammed down on him, shaking the entire ground, and a fresh wave of pain blossomed through Kalya’s wound.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Merrill conjured what looked to be an enormous fist made of rock and slammed it into the Templar’s body. He shot across the room and slumped to the ground near Kalya. The mage continued peppering him with arcane strikes from her staff until she was sure he was dead, and even a little while after that.

Kalya struggled to think, to move, but nothing was connecting. Merrill slid across the room and removed the cloak from her back. She gingerly lifted Kalya’s leg, which jolted her back to awareness, sucking in air angrily and gritting her teeth. Merrill tied the cloak tight around her companion’s upper thigh, but it quickly soaked through with blood.

“We’ve got to get you to my friend! He’s just over in Darktown.”

Kalya’s head lolled forward again.

“Yeah, I can’t… get to anywhere.” She gulped hard, tasting blood.

“No, no, no, this is my fault. Stay right there. I’ll be back soon!”

Merrill shot out of the room before Kalya could even give her a last request. She scoffed to herself as the front door slammed shut a moment later. _Blood mages._

The tavern was quiet. Elves didn’t much like _any_ humans in armor, but Templars were particularly intimidating. They must have cleared out pretty fast.

A pool of red spread out beneath her at what was probably an alarming rate.

With significant effort, she rolled her head to one side to peer out the private room’s doorway. The bartender shakily rose from behind the bar to survey the damage.

Minor furniture scrapes, increasing amounts of blood on the floor, merchandise thankfully intact. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her final request after all.

Kalya called the barkeep over.

:::

Warmth in some form or another emanated through Kalya’s body as she was roused back into consciousness. Strong human arms cradled her body, and though their owner was clearly trying to be gentle, the light sprint he was taking was doing nothing for the contents of her stomach.

Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, but she pried them open as she felt herself being lowered onto a wooden table. Blinking in the dim light, she locked eyes with her preserver.

With sandy-blonde hair tied loosely in the back, the man’s honey-hued eyes looked sorrowfully down on her. Her one weakness – besides apparently a Blighted shield to the thigh – was blonde men with puppy-dog eyes. She felt her stomach lurch. In a bad way.

“Do you… have a bucket?”

The man paused for a moment before answering, surprised she was so lucid. “Uh, yes, right over here.”

She accepted it with a grateful nod and then swung to one side to throw up into it, nearly rolling off the table. He dove to steady her, and she curled around the bucket, retching for several minutes before spitting in what she hoped to be a ladylike manner. With one hand on her to keep her steady, the man reached to another table and grabbed a glass of water.

“The pain must be worse than I thought,” he said, lowering the bucket to the ground.

“No, I, uh, I self-medicated.” She smiled weakly at him. “Bottle of whiskey chased with a pint of health potion. I must be losing my touch. That used to be the _beginning_ of a night out.”

“I’m Anders,” the man said.

Her vision clearing, Kalya noticed he wore mage robes, if not odd ones – deep green velvet with rows of feathers lining his shoulders. She _really_ hoped he wasn’t a blood mage.

“Merrill told me where to find you,” he continued. “And then disappeared, presumably off self-loathing in her house.”

“Ah, it was my fault. Except for the palm-stabbing and raising rats from the dead. But the Templar-sassing, that was all me.”

“Can’t say I blame you. It was Kalya, right?”

She nodded, and a half-smile crept up Anders’ face.

“Next time, maybe sass with a little more armor on.”

Foggy in the warm afterglow of left-over healing magic, Kalya became fixated on the man’s stubble. It was now quite late in the evening, and she wondered distantly if he had shaved that morning and this was just one day’s growth. She fought back the urge to reach out and touch it. Maker, she must have lost a lot of blood.

Her staring didn’t go unnoticed, and Anders gestured awkwardly to her blood-soaked britches. The bleeding had stopped, but a huge gash ran the length of her hip to her knee.

“Do you mind if I – I’ve been healing through your trousers, but the flesh knits cleaner if I have more contact.” He cleared his throat softly. “Don’t want a scar.”

“Ah, what’s one more for the collection?” she said jovially, lifting up her silk shirt enough to show her midriff. A thick, white band stretched laterally across her entire midsection.

“Maker’s breath, is that from… a broadsword?”

“Yup!” She was proud of the badge… when she didn’t think too much about it.

“What, do you just travel with a team of healing mages?”

“Just the one at the time,” she said with a guilty smile. “It was supposed to be three, but I sort of pissed two off. By smashing their heads together. It’s a whole story.”

“I can’t tell if you’re the worst fighter I’ve ever healed or the bravest,” Anders said, admittedly looking a little impressed.

“I get that a lot. Okay, not the brave part.” She inched out of her trousers, lifting them gingerly over the wounded area. “It does feel a lot better.”

“I hope so,” he said, averting his eyes to the far table, where he took three small empty bottles out of his robe and lined them against the wall.

“I can… pay you back for the lyrium. I hear that stuff’s not cheap.”

“It’s all right,” he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand, still not daring to look directly at her as she undressed. “Let’s just get you fixed up.”

Kalya pulled her silk shirt down a bit, hoping to make Anders more comfortable, but she was so grateful to not be dead, she didn’t mind if the whole town saw her naked.

“Do you usually heal patients without looking at them?” She leaned back on her arms. “You’re even better than I thought.”

Anders finally looked up from the floor and met her gaze. “My patients aren’t usually so beautiful.”

Kalya’s heart jumped so fiercely behind her rib cage, she was grateful to be in the presence of a healing professional. He rejoined her side and delicately placed his hands on her thigh. The warm sensation returned, accompanied by almost imperceptible jolts of electricity.

“It’s the muscles stitching back together,” he said after a few moments. “You should be able to put pressure on it in no time.”

She placed her hand over his as he worked, stealing another look at his deliciously colored eyes. He smiled back at her, but she sensed fear behind his gaze. She pulled her hand back, worried she had been reading him wrong.

After a few moments, the warmth dissipated, and Anders lifted his hands, taking a deep, cleansing breath.

“How is that?”

“It… feels amazing. Thank you.”

Anders extended an arm to her waist, and for a moment, Kalya thought he was going to embrace her, but he lifted up her shirt ever so slightly, exposing her smallclothes and midsection.

“Should I… see if I can do something about this scar?”

Kalya gave a self-conscious chuckle. “I – I kind of don’t mind it. Is that weird?”

“Not at all.” Anders leaned in closer, staring deep into her eyes. The sadness was still there, and Kalya ached to weaken its hold. “We can’t always erase what’s happened to us.”

Kalya leaned in, meeting his lips with hers. He smelled of sandalwood and leather, and her hands couldn’t stay put any longer. She reached up to stroke his rough face. Its rugged texture made her dizzy.

Anders returned her urgency, pressing hard against her, as if afraid to let her go. His other arm danced tenderly along her side, snaking around to her back before firmly pulling her closer to him.

He scrambled a bit sloppily onto the table and knelt over her, searching her face for permission. Kalya set forward slightly and lifted the bottom of his robes as Anders exhaled gratefully and undid the buckles at the top.

For a mage, he was nothing like the sinewy, rail-thin magic users she’d seen before. Kalya sat straight up, running her hands hungrily along his muscled sides. He tensed at the touch, and she pulled him closer, running her nails up his back with a bit more roughness. Hearing his breath hitch, she crushed her mouth into his, nibbling longingly on his lower lip.

In an instant, she was flat on her back, arms pinned under Anders’ weight. The movement caught her off-guard, and she tensed beneath him reflexively, unable to move. A rush of adrenaline coursed through her body, and Anders lifted off her arms to take her head roughly in both hands, tasting her completely. His mouth felt soft and warm upon hers, and she teased him with her own tongue, tasting tender sweetness that contrasted the urgency of his forceful presence enveloping her.

Anders shuddered above her but seemed distracted, lifting his head and fixating intensely on a point beyond Kalya’s. She searched for the source of his attention and glanced back at him, but he closed his eyes as if he were just on the edge of keeping it together.

Surely these sandy-blonde vessels of perfection weren’t all virgins. Did they just never leave the house?

Kalya gulped back her reverie when Anders’ eyes suddenly shot open, glowing a luminous blue. _Shit. Always ask if they’re blood mages. Always._

Bolts of bright blue crackled against his skin, and Kalya gripped the side of the table. With great restraint, he pulled himself off her, rocking back on his ankles, ashamed to touch her at all.

His eyes closed again, and he shook his head, working to control his breathing. When they opened a moment later, they were back to gold. Unilluminated gold.

“I… should have warned you.” Anders’ shoulders sank. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m just going to start giving people questionnaires as soon as I meet them. ‘Blood mage, daddy issues, assassin? Yes/No.’ Save me a lot of time.”

“I’m… none of those. There’s a spirit – a good spirit – but he waits for me to let down my guard, and _you_ are… very distracting.”

“Well, the Maker works in mysterious ways when you decide you’re willing to consider a threesome…”

Anders dropped his head, ashamed.

“Look, I understand if you don’t want to…”

Kalya exhaled slowly.

“Is it – he going to hurt me? Bad hurt, not the good kind.”

“Not after what you did to that Templar,” he chuckled sheepishly. “I just have to – Maybe _you_ should… be in control. Just to be safe. God, this is awkward.”

“If this is all an elaborate ploy to get me on top, you could have just asked,” she said, sliding out from beneath him. Anders rolled to his back and smirked at her gratefully as she straddled his midsection.

Kalya slowly ran her fingertips over his taut chest. She leaned over to taste his lips again and felt his stubble scratch her chin. Kissing along his cheek, she followed his jawline to his ear, nibbling it softly. Anders inhaled quickly and brought a hand to her waist, which she grabbed as prisoner and pinned it over his head. There was no way she was strong enough to keep it there against his will, but Anders complied, arching his back longingly as she continued down his collarbone, suckling tiny circles as she went.

She released his captive wrist, sliding softly over forearm and bicep. Anders left it in place but his entire body shivered eagerly beneath her. The tease was delicious. Kalya grasped both his shoulders and rocked her hips backwards, where her lover’s manhood was stock straight against her backside. Licking her lips, she reached between her legs and lifted him inside her.

She was slick with anticipation as she lowered herself down hard around him. Anders craned his neck backwards, itching for more control, and Kalya brought his hands to her hips. He grasped them gently and lifted her to his tip, letting her crash back down, riding him at concordant rhythms. His nails began unconsciously digging into her skin, and she shot him a sideward warning glance causing him to let up… a little.

Taking hold of his shoulders, Kalya raised Anders to a sitting position, face to face, and wrapped her legs around him, squeezing his midsection in her thighs. With an arm braced back for support, she ground her hips up into him at this new angle, circling his cock as she felt it expanding to fill her. She wrapped her arms around him in an attempt to push him deeper inside her wetness, but the spot that was itching to be hit was deeper still. Unable to help herself, she ground her open mouth against his, not soft this time, but urgent, lapping up his own slick sweetness.

Anders suddenly draped a rough arm around her midsection and slid the other under her backside, launching them both off the table in an instant, crashing into the front wall of the clinic. He pumped feverishly against her, and Kalya remained clenched around him, afraid to move or upset whatever was within. Even beneath the fear, the electric sensation of his pressure pinning her to the wall still radiated warmth throughout the lower half of her body. She took the mage’s head in her hands and brought his face to hers, but when he opened his eyes, golden amber gazed back at her.

Neither looked away as Anders drove his thick cock furiously into Kalya, eliciting a gasp from her at the peak of each thrust. Now it was her turn to drive fingernails into his back, driving Anders wild and pinning her even closer as she clenched herself tight around him. It was Kalya who finally broke eye contact, arching her back to stare at the ceiling between gasps. Her head bobbed as Anders hunched over to take a bouncing breast into his mouth and suckle it vigorously.

Kalya’s gasps soon turned to whimpers of unhinged passion, and she begged silently for the release she could feel fast approaching. Her mage was close, too. The thin skin around his rock-hardness had to be stretched to capacity. Unable to take it any more, she pushed her hips forward, causing his every thrust to hit the spot impossibly deep within her over and over. She squeezed her eyes tight, bracing for the sweet loss of control as he crashed against her. Euphoria radiated outward in all directions as Anders persisted driving into her, raising the apex of her ecstasy to unimaginable heights. She began whimpering his name, unable to take any more, and he quieted her with a sensuous kiss long and hard, as he quivered inside with a few more urgent thrusts.

Struggling to catch his breath, Anders slid his arms once again around Kalya as he backed from the wall and carried her frame glistening with sweat back to the table, setting her upon it gingerly. She collapsed backwards in spent bliss. Anders tenderly slipped a lock of her short auburn hair behind her ear.

“That was… unexpected,” he said. “And amazing.”

“I should pick fights with Templars more often,” she answered, meeting his gaze.

“Much as I hate Templars, there _are_ safer ways to visit me again.” 

Anders sidled next to her on the table offering an open arm, and Kalya curled into him, catching her breath atop his heaving chest as it softly slowed in the cool night. 


End file.
